


Beware White Bears

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Markiplier - RPF, Markiplier - YouTube, YouTube - Markiplier, Youtube RPF
Genre: Consensual Non-Consent, Daddy Play, Degrading Language, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Facial, Humiliation, Mommy play, Multi, Nonstandard Gender Roles, Role Fluidity, Switching, dominance fight, male mommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:04:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7139282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who says titles have to be gender specific? & where would you find a white bear in this part of the world, anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beware White Bears

**Author's Note:**

> This comes off as a bit dub-con, but all participants are willing. It can be a bit difficult to convey, but if anyone has any suggestions, please do share 'em!

“Today is the feast day of little orange cats. If able, curl up with your nose on your backside and your tail around your feet.” Mark puts down his fortune cookie paper, looking confused. “The heck?”

“Maybe someone found religion at the Chinese food place?” You open your own fortune cookie. “Although I've never heard f these saints.” 

"But why little orange cats specifically?" Mark sets the fortune on the kitchen table, leaning back into his chair and resting his hands on his belly. "For that matter, how do they know what day it will be, when it gets open?" 

“You're thinking too much," you repeat, breaking open the cookie. "'Today is the feast day of the North wind,'" you read. "Beware of white bears trying to steal your daughters." You flip the fortune over, and there's more print on the other side. "If you lack daughters, beware white bears trying to eat your face." 

"How can it be both?" Mark stretches like a cat, his shirt rising up, and you pause to admire his belly, and the trail of hair leading down under his navel. “and where would you even get a white bear, in this part of the world?” 

"Things can have multiple meanings," you point out, and you yawn widely. "Maybe days are like people, and don't just have the one identity. Because there is so much history and whatnot. Only so much time." 

"The woman who served us our food was oddly cheerful," says Mark, coming up behind you and beginning to rub your shoulders. He does it gently, with the tips of his fingers, and you relax into it. 

"Anyone would would be, next to that dude in the plague doctor mask." You lean back into it, peeking up at him upside down. He looks back down at you, his glasses catching the light. "How about you just relax and let Daddy take care of you...." His voice is taking on its usual sexy baritone, and it is tempting, oh so tempting, to just let it wash over you like water. 

But maybe not tonight. 

You grab him by the belt loops, your neck at an awkward angle, and stare straight into his eyes. "Why do you think _you'll_ get to be Daddy tonight?" You make your voice syrupy sweet, stroking up and down his sides. You can feel his body erupting in goosebumps, shivering ever so slightly. 

"Because I'm the one standing up," he says, his voice teasing. "I'm obviously the bigger person here." 

"If I stood on the chair I'd be the bigger person," you point out, standing up. So maybe you guys aren't quite the same height. Or maybe you are. You're still looking him squarely in the eyes. 

"I'd still win," he says, and his voice is going low and dangerous, a familiar glint in his eye. It makes you shiver and certain parts of your anatomy wake up, but you stand firm. As it were. Ahem. 

"Don't be so sure of yourself." You attempt a growl yourself, and push him towards an empty bit of wall, right by the counter. He lets himself be pushed, seemingly more startled than anything else. It's not that you haven't gotten all commanding before. It's just that usually there's a bit more... lead up. 

"Oh yeah? You think you could Top me?" He puts his arms on your shoulders and spins the both of you around, forcing your back up against the wall. He plants his hands on either side of your head, leans down, and kisses you.

It's a very nice kiss - well, no, not a _nice_ kiss - but it's certainly satisfying. You can feel yourself getting lost in it, sucking on your tongue as his fingers move from your sides to your face, gentle and rough in turn. His skin is hot, even through his t-shirt, and your own skin is burning up to match his, filling you up like a cup of hot tea. 

"So I am Daddy, aren't I?" He's actually purring against you, nuzzling into your neck, no doubt leaving hickies. His stubble is scratchy against the soft skin, and you shift, wincing. "Just... relax." 

"No," you mumble, grabbing him by the hair and forcing his head down. You kiss him again, this time leading, holding him close to you. You dig your fingers into his bony hips and bite at his lips and teeth. "I'm not gonna relax," you growl into his mouth. "I'm gonna make you beg for me. Beg for me to fuck your face, gonna make you cry..." Your hand goes around his neck, squeezing gently. 

“Mmm... tempting offer,” he says weakly, putting his own hand over yours and squeezing it, making you tighten around his throat. You meet his eyes as you choke him, listening to the wheezing whistle of his breath. It makes you hornier, blood thudding between your legs like a hammer, and you're so desperate, so needy, you need his mouth so badly. 

“So keep at it,” you croon at him, your hand squeezing harder. “I'm gonna make you choke, make you beg... fuck, I'm gonna stare into your pretty face while I choke you, making that desperate thing between your legs that much harder, how desperate you are to just fuck me, don't you want to just _fuck_ , sink your dick as far into me as you can get it, but you can't, because you're on your knees riiiiight here.” With every word, you squeeze a little harder, until he can't breathe at all. He hasn't tapped out yet, though. 

Mark pulls your hand off of his neck, and stands up. He staggers a bit, then smirks at you, grabbing you by the neck. His hand is big enough to wrap entirely around your throat, forcing you right back against the wall, his fingertips actually touching the wall. 

“You know what? You're right.” His eyes blink dark for a moment, then they're back to their familiar color. You gasp, then wheeze, your chest beginning to hurt, the pressure in your head rising. “I do in fact want to do all of that. His voice is just that much more croaking, no doubt from the slight bruise already blooming around his throat. “I'm pretty fucking desperate to fuck you, sink my dick in inch by agonizing inch.” He's squeezing hard enough that you're starting to swoon. You tap him on the arm, and take your deep breath, gasping. “But hey, surprise!” He forces you down on your knees this time, and you stare up at him, arousal thrumming through your blood.

“Surprise?” You wheeze, staring up at him. “Th-the surprise is g-g-gonna be when I get up.” He lets your throat go for a minute, and you try to lunge forwards and upwards. But the hand is around your throat again, and you gasp, still wheezing. 

“Come to Daddy,” he says mockingly, then winces. “No, no. That doesn't work. Uh... come to Mommy!” He smirks at that, possibly at the ridiculousness, possibly because it's turning him on. Something is sure turning him on – you can see his erection right in front of your face, a nice big lump in his jeans.

“S-seriously,” you gasp. “Mommy?” 

He tightens his grip, and your eyes start to flutter, your breath wheezing and whistling through your throat. “I'll let you breathe if you call me Mommy,” he says sweetly, almost syrupy.

“W-why?” You tap him, getting your breath back, but not getting up just yet. “Some undiscovered gender feels you want to deal with?” That's not really a here and now thing. Not when you're nose to dick with him, his erection leaking ever so slightly, staining the denim a darker blue. 

“It's all about roles,” he says. “Sweetheart,” he adds as an afterthought, and smiles with too many teeth. This isn't going to be a nice Mommy, you don' think. There's wooden spoons and poison apples in that grin, and it makes you shiver. 

“W-well, I'm not gonna call you Mommy,” you say defiantly, although the idea makes your whole body break out in goosebumps. Mark in an old fashioned dress, holding you down and fucking your ass, hitting it with a wooden spoon. You whimper unwittingly, the image filling your whole mind. 

“That's too bad, because I'm your Mommy,” Mark says, and he puts a hand on your cheek, making you meet his eyes. He taps it gently, and you nod. 

The slap is very loud in your kitchen, and your ear starts to ring. It hurts, a sharp stinging pain that throbs through your skull, wriggling through your cheekbone. You cry out, and Mark smirks. “Who was it that just hit you?”

“The t-twat in front of me,” you gasp, a few drips of tears smearing down your face. “Who is gonna be really sorry w-when I get up.” 

The next slap is harder, and a little high – you'll have to give him a heads up about that, later on. You feel his palm thump against your cheekbone, and there's a moment of terror, because that's never good. But the pain is normal face slapping pain, throbbing hot and bright like a sun. You cry out, loudly, and curl forward, gasping. You can see little bright flecks in front of your eye, and both of your ears are ringing. You stay like that for almost a full minute, before a hand grabs your ear and forces you to look up. 

“I said, Mommy doesn't approve of bad language.” Mark lets go of your ear, holding on to your throat again, squeezing with his fingers. You're going to have a choker of bruises – see if you can get away with a scarf for the next week or so. “If you're gonna use your mouth like that... I'm sure Mommy can put it to a much better use.” 

You roll your eyes – Mark is overdoing it a bit. But then the sticky head of his cock is smearing across your chin, and Mark is leaning down again, his hands on your chin, his fingertips digging into your jaw. You open your mouth unwillingly (or at least, pretending to be unwilling), and he shoves his cock in, deep enough that you gag.

“It's like you said,” Mark says, and he hasn't even removed his jeans. He's fucking your mouth, fucking your throat, and every time he hilts in you, the denim of his jeans digging into your nose. You swallow, whimpering, and yes, there are tears dripping down your face. “I'm sliding my cock as deep into you as I can, it feels good, doesn't it? Don't you fucking love it, with Mommy having her dick up your throat? I can feel how your throat is pulsing, surrounding me... fuck, I'm not gonna last long....” He does something wriggly with his hips, and you gasp, coughing. There's drool dripping down your chin, snot dripping out of your mouth. Your cheeks are starting to swell from the slap as well, and you're fairly certain that your pants have a damp spot of arousal. 

You gasp, making vague gurgling sounds, as he stares down at you, deep into your eyes. “Isn't it nice? Mommy's dick, right down your throat. Oh... oh, fuck.” Suddenly, he pulls out, quickly, and jerks his dick once, twice. Then his cock is spurting cum into your face, and you close your eyes hurriedly not to get it in them. 

“D-did you have to cum in my face?” Your voice is raspy – between the throat fucking and the choking, you're gonna have a lot of fun explaining this to everyone. It's totally worth it, more than worth it, you're gonna tuck this away for future masturbation fodder. 

“Yes,” Mark says, crouching down in front of you. He wipes of glob of cum off of your face with his thumb and shoves it into your mouth, which is disgusting. But you're transfixed, staring into his eyes. “Why don't you make yourself cum, since you're obviously so fucking desperate.” 

“Aren't you gonna put in any effort?” Your hand goes into your pants, between your legs, and you gasp, beginning to rub desperately, as hard as you can. You're almost there, so close, even if your mouth tastes like cum or your skin is sticky. 

“I put in my effort,” says Mark, pinching your bruised cheek and making you sob as you curl forward, in pain and arousal. “That was the laziest blow job you've ever given.”

“You d-didn't give me a ch-chance... fuck....” Your whole body goes rigid as you cum, and you can't keep talking, because you're cumming, spurting into your pants and into your hand. You slump forward, pressing your face into Mark's chest, and he makes a face.

“You got spunk on me,” he accuses, but he holds you close anyway, rubbing the back of your head.

“What can I say? You're a spunky guy.” You snicker, and you don't even complain when he pokes you. That was totally worth it. 

Mark groans, sitting down completely and pulling you into his lap. “So should we now curl up and put our noses to our butts?” 

“Nah,” you say, snuggling up to him. “We need to beware white bears.” 

Mark's laugh reverberates through his chest, right into your sore head, and you snicker along, closing your eyes against the beginnings of the headache. Next time, you are so gonna get him.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone who gets the references in the beginning of this fic will get a fic, written by me, to exact specifications. Also my eternal joy.


End file.
